


Things About Us

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 prompt fills for a mini-fic meme on tumblr.</p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 1</span></b>: Things You Said That I Wasn't Supposed to Hear<br/>- <i>Steve overhears Natasha telling Clint about her feelings for the super-soldier.</i></p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 2</span></b>: Things You Said When You Were Drunk<br/>- <i>Turns out Asgardian mead can, in fact, get Steve drunk. It also turns out that the Captain gets particularly chatty while inebriated.</i></p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 3</span></b>: Things You Said After You Kissed Me<br/>- <i>Steve is a better kisser than she initially thought.</i></p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 4</span></b>: Things You Said While Asleep<br/>- <i>Steve wakes up in the middle of the night to find Natasha whimpering and clutching his shirt. He wakes her up because he think's she's having a nightmare, but that's far from the case.</i></p><p><b><span class="u">Ch. 5</span></b>: Things You Said When You Were Scared<br/>- <i>They might be dying, and although Natasha's never been afraid of death before, it's different now that she has him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things You Said That I Wasn't Supposed to Hear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ice326](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice326/gifts), [heyfrenchfreudiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana/gifts), [johannarenee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johannarenee/gifts).



Steve had a routine. Every morning, he’d get up before sunrise and go for a run. After he came back, he’d eat breakfast and maybe catch up on some twenty-first century learning before heading down to the Tower’s gym and squeezing in another few hours of exercise in the afternoon. Around that time the gym was usually empty, as everyone tended to do their own thing—Bruce and Stark usually holed up in the labs for majority of the day; Clint was either fletching arrows or raiding the kitchen; Thor spent time with Jane; and, well, Steve really had no idea what the hell Natasha did when she wasn’t around. That didn’t bother him, though. He liked working out alone, and he liked beating the hell out of a punching bag. The sand-filled sacks seemed to be among the few things that hadn’t really changed since his time before the ice, and the solitude and exertion helped him take his mind off of things for a while. It was like a brief break in his hectic readjustment to modern life.

With that, you could say he was a little disappointed to find Natasha and Clint sparring in the gym’s ring, directly across from where the spread of punching bags were lined up. Steve hovered at the door, positive that neither of the agents had spotted him yet as Clint was currently being pinned down by Natasha, who was sitting on his chest with her back to the entryway, and he was just about to turn around when his serum-enhanced hearing picked up traces of the spies’ winded conversation.

“You _what_?” Clint asked, voiced tight with Natasha’s weight bearing down on his gut. Steve moved so that the wall was blocking his frame from their view as Natasha stood and watched as Clint struggled to push himself off of the floor of the ring.

She shrugged. “It might just be out of boredom. I haven’t decided yet.”

Clint scoffed and got into a fighting stance. “Oh, yeah, like you can just _decide_ on whether you have feelings for the Cap or not.”

Steve widened his eyes and mentally cursed as his breath hitched in his throat, praying to god that it wasn’t all that loud. Thankfully, at that same moment Natasha flipped Clint on to his back again, sending him down with a loud thud that concealed any noises that could give away Steve’s presence. He calmed his breathing, heart beating in his ears as he listened for Natasha’s response, despite the fact that every voice inside of his head was telling him that _this is wrong_ and _you should go_ and then, finally, _Nat likes me?_

“I told you, I just…” Natasha sighed as she seemingly subconsciously deflected a punch from the archer, using her other hand to push any loose strands from her ponytail away from her face. “I don’t know. It’s weird, right? And stupid. Who even has _crushes_ nowadays? What am I, twelve?”

“It’s not stupid,” Clint said to her, dropping his arms at his sides and giving Natasha a sympathetic look—one that, were they under different circumstances, would have gotten him a sprained wrist. She was just standing there, looking half-confused and half-annoyed with whatever she was feeling for Steve— _Steve_ who, unbeknownst to them, was listening to every bit of their conversation from only a few feet away. The soldier couldn’t see it, but she gave Clint a doubtful look. “I’m being serious. And it’s not weird, either. A little _unexpected_ , sure, but no one’s gonna judge you for liking Rogers. I mean, it wouldn’t be anything none of us haven’t seen coming from a mile away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a connection between you two,” Clint explained. “Pretty much everyone but you and Cap have noticed it. It’s kind of ridiculous how unaware you guys are of all this tension you’ve got going on between the two of you.”

Clint didn’t get to continue as Natasha flipped him on to his back again, this time with much more force. Steve could barely see her hovering over him. In a slightly strangled voice, the archer continued, “You wanna know how I know? Because it’s the same connection you and I had when we first started working together, the one we still have now. Only there’s too much cynicism combined between the two of us for anything to work out romantically, and you know that. But with Rogers, he brings out something better in you, something that I’m pretty sure you don’t mind seeing.” He chuckled as Natasha seemingly gave him a death glare. “Threaten to kill me with your eyes all you want. You know I’m right.”

It was quiet for a few moments, and Steve was tempted to slip away, afraid that the intensity his heart was beating at would somehow echo in the hallway and alert the spies that he was there. He was also aware that he was blushing so hard that he was bound to start _glowing_ red, and then he’d be caught for sure. With that, he silently prepared to leave, feeling guilty over the fact that he was also feeling ridiculously happy about everything he’d just heard. If only she knew that he felt the same way, and had been for quite a while. 

But now wasn't the right time to tell her that, especially since Steve wasn't even supposed to be listening anyway.

As he made a silent exit, he could hear Natasha finally responding in a voice that wasn’t entirely convincing, “You don’t know shit, Barton.”

And then, although Steve missed it, she actually blushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at **steveromanov** on tumblr if you guys want to submit any prompts!


	2. Things You Said When You Were Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Asgardian mead can, in fact, get Steve drunk. It also turns out that the Captain gets particularly chatty while inebriated.

To put it plainly, Steve was drunk.

It all started with a simple get-together that Tony suggested the team have on what he called the “party deck” of the Tower—basically the communal floor where everyone went if they didn’t want to be alone in their own personal quarters. However, the “simple get-together” quickly turned into a game of drinking that Steve didn’t particularly understand the rules of and wasn’t all that enthusiastic on playing anyways, and the super-soldier was just about to back out with the totally valid excuse that the serum prevented him from getting drunk when, as if on cue, Thor announced that he had several kegs of Asgardian mead stored up on his floor from his recent trip to the realm a few days ago. Of course, this new notion only made Tony more determined in his efforts to get Steve to participate, and the super-soldier finally just gave in, already knowing that if he didn’t contribute, then he would never hear the end of it from the engineer for the rest of his days.

Undeniably, Steve only went along with the drinking game because he was positive that, because of the serum, he was incapable of actually being intoxicated. Boy, was he wrong. Not only had the Asgardian brew succeeded in its job, but Steve was also so wasted that he was having trouble standing on his own two feet. On the other hand, he was also having a damn great time, even though pretty much everyone had either passed out or called it in for the night long ago. 

Well, everyone except Natasha. The spy had almost a whole bottle of premium vodka to herself that night and she didn’t even as much as look tipsy. Steve watched her from his spot on the floor. She was sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her as she inspected her nails, but even in his inebriated state, he knew that she had been watching him with full-blown amusement. Her lips were tipped in a faint smirk, one that she wasn’t even bothering to hide, and Steve quickly realized that she was making fun of him. 

“What’s so funny?”

Natasha smiled. “Nothing,” she shrugged, still not bothering to hide her amusement.

Steve scoffed, though it came out sounding wet and snort-like. “I may be a little drunk, but I know that smile when I see it. Even if I’m seeing three. Wait, no, five. I’m seeing five. But that’s okay, I like your smile. Except when you’re using it to make fun of me. No, that’s a lie. I still like it.”

It was also discovered that night by the other Avengers that the dear Captain tended to ramble when intoxicated.

Natasha tipped her head back in a loud laugh, and even though Steve couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely beautiful right then, that didn’t stop him from feeling offended again. “ _What_?”

“Well, for one, you look absolutely ridiculous,” she motioned at him and his totally disheveled appearance. His hair was mussed and no longer being held together by gel. He had long ago stripped of his shirt and shoes and was now sitting on the floor in nothing but his tank top, jeans, and socks. The socks would have been discarded, too, but Tony, apparently, hated all feet unless they were Pepper’s and stopped Steve before he could. “And for two, you’re a real Chatty Kathy once you’re plastered, you know that?”

“You’re not even going to say anything about me thinking your smile’s nice?”

Natasha smirked. “I thought I’d save you the embarrassment.”

“Nobody can save me from embarrassment,” he said matter-of-factly. “You know how many times a day I blush. Bucky used to make fun of me for it, because even if an old lady complimented me, I’d turn the color of your hair.” He paused, realizing what he had just said. “Not that your hair is a bad color. It’s pretty and shiny and smooth and _red_. Like oil paint,” He hiccupped and this time he actually did blush. “Jesus, I’ll shut up now.”

“No, keep going. Be my guest,” she laughed again, looking way too entertained for Steve’s liking. “Seriously, a woman never gets tired of being complimented.”

And then, before Steve could stop himself, he asked, “Are you sure you’re not just enjoying it because you like me?”

Natasha’s face instantly fell. Steve found himself mentally scrambling for something to say, anything to disregard the fact that he had just let those words tumble out of his mouth. It’d been almost a whole week since he’d overheard Natasha and Clint’s conversation in the gym, and even though he was pretty ecstatic, he was still too nervous to actually come out and talk to her about their mutual feelings. He was working up to it, sure, but apparently the mead decided that he needed a little help in the matter.

Still, this was _not_ how he wanted to bring the subject up.

“What? What’re you talking about?” Natasha asked, the mask he’d seen way too many times in the past slipping over her features. She was doing a damn good job at being nonchalant, but Steve wasn’t buying it. And there was no backing out now.

“I…might’ve accidentally overheard you telling Clint that you liked me the other day,” he admitted quietly, suddenly a bit more sober than he had been thirty seconds ago.

He saw a brief flare of anger flash over Natasha’s face, but she easily schooled it. “Well, you heard wrong.”

It was a blatant lie, and they both knew it. Steve frowned. “No, I didn’t.” She glanced away and he pushed himself off of the floor, struggling a bit in his woozy state but succeeding nonetheless. He sat down on the sofa beside her, making sure to leave just enough space between them so she didn’t feel suffocated, but still intimately close regardless. “And I’m glad I didn’t, honestly.”

Natasha looked up at him, eyes slightly wide. “What?”

“I like you, too,” he scoffed shortly after that. “God, you’re right. The words do make you feel twelve years old.”

After a moment, Natasha smiled. “I don’t know whether to hit you for eavesdropping or kiss you for it.”

“I think I know which one I’d prefer.”

“Well, I don’t want to take advantage of you in your drunken state…” she smirked, leaning forward so that their lips were mere inches apart. Her breath tickled Steve’s nose, and for some reason, even with vodka still on her tongue, she smelt delightful.

“I promise it won’t change how I like you come tomorrow,” he said. “But if it makes you feel better, I can make the first move.”

Natasha's voice was barely above a whisper as she replied, “Then what are you waiting for, Steve?”

He chuckled lightly, but that didn’t stop him from glancing down at her mouth and leaning in. She really did smell wonderful—she always did, as a matter of fact, and he was pretty sure that she’d taste even better.

However, before he could confirm that notion, a loud voice booming from the other side of the room sounded and sent Steve and Natasha leaning away from each other as if they’d just been caught doing something terribly wrong. Maybe they had, but it sure didn’t feel that way. The two of them sharply glanced over to the location of the voice, finding Thor standing in front of the elevator looking the sort of jovial that only came with being incredibly, incredibly drunk, and despite being annoyed that they’d been interrupted, they couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Steven, Lady Natasha!” Thor yelled, either unaware or uncaring of the fact that only a few feet away, Clint and Tony were passed out on the dining table. “I am glad to see that you two are still celebrating—and Steven, that you are still on your feet. Shall I go get some more mead for us to share?”

Steve was pretty sure that the drunken demigod hadn’t seen what was close to transpiring between him and Natasha only seconds ago. He could still smell her, and it was, frankly, driving him crazy, but he ignored the urge to just dismiss Thor’s presence and kiss her for the time being. “Uh, thanks, but I think I’ve reached my limit for the night, buddy.”

Thor looked a bit crestfallen, despite the fact that he was slightly swaying from side-to-side. He looked to the redhead. “Lady Natasha?”

“Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m touching that stuff,” she smirked, standing up. “Besides, I think I should call it in for the night, too.” She gave Steve a brief look over that told him they would pick up where they left off at a later time, preferably when there wasn't an intoxicated demigod in their presence. He gave her a slight nod, and as she walked past Thor and into the elevator, Steve could have sworn she had a slight sway to her hips. The sight made him lick his dry lips, and he seriously contemplated following her.

However, before Steve could go through with that thought, Thor fell face-forward on to the floor with a loud thump.

Steve sighed. Kissing Natasha seemed way more appealing than lugging an unconscious Asgardian back up to his floor, but like she had silently promised, they'd pick up on where they left off later.


	3. Things You Said After You Kissed Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a better kisser than she initially thought.

Natasha smelled like expensive vanilla perfume and gun metal. It was classy; elegant, but also backed by the proficiency and deadliness that everyone knew she was capable of.

And she tasted even better. As her and Steve sat on the couch in her living room, melting into each other’s mouths as if they’d never been kissed by another human being before, Steve thought his senses were going to go into overdrive. He savored the faint traces of her strawberry lip gloss on his tongue, coupled with the red wine they’d shared over dinner earlier that evening. She tasted… _delicious,_ just like he thought she would—not like he had thought about it before this moment.

Oh, who was he kidding? He’d thought about it plenty of times before, even when they’d only known each other for a few weeks and the most contact they’d had with one another was when he launched her off of his shield. Natasha was beautiful, and that was just common knowledge. But the artist in him, the one that noticed all shapes and sizes and colors and contours, was initially drawn to the slope of her lips. He’d thought about it even more after she kissed him on the escalator, studied her closer, if that was even possible, but that "undercover" kiss compared _nothing_ to the one they were sharing now.

It was passionate, to say the least. Not rushed, not sloppy, but definitely heated. Natasha kissed with precision—the type that Steve had no doubt came with her job—but also intimacy. She cradled his face in her hands; slid her tongue across his. She gasped into his mouth, let out quiet, shameless moans and hums that made him feel positively dizzy. And when he slipped his hand into her hair to bring her closer, she bit down on his bottom lip— _tenderly_ , but the action made him let out an involuntary growl that made her chuckle against his mouth nonetheless. They stayed like that for a while, lips occasionally smacking against each other, and it wasn’t until Steve curled his hands around the back of Natasha’s thighs and heaved her on to his lap that she let out a surprised gasp and gave him a dazed look of half-satisfaction, half-disbelief.

Steve was just about to lean up to kiss her again when he noticed her raised eyebrow and slightly droopy smirk. “What?” He asked, only mildly impatiently.

She didn’t answer for a while and instead slowly swiped her thumb across his bottom lip, green eyes watching how his tongue darted out to graze the digit. “You’ve gotten better at this,” she finally said. “Have you been practicing, Rogers?”

“I told you, I don’t need practice,” he smirked, feeling smug.

“Clearly.” Natasha’s eyes darkened then, her voice slightly deepened with desire. He kissed the tip of her thumb, adding a bit of suction that made her shift on his lap, and smiled teasingly.

“But you might.”

Natasha gasped, holding a hand to her chest in mock offense. She leaned back, still straddling his lap between her thighs. “Now, that’s just rude.”

“Honest,” he corrected, semi-quoting what he’d said to her back in Sam’s guest room over a year ago. “As always.”

She chuckled and shook her head, leaning closer to him again. As she bent her head down, her red curls fell around their faces like a satin curtain. “An honest man. I pick ‘em well,” she smiled, a tad bit ironically. “Now, kiss me again.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.


	4. Things You Said While Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up in the middle of the night to find Natasha whimpering and clutching his shirt. He wakes her up because he think's she's having a nightmare, but that's far from the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize Natasha's not really saying anything, per se, but oh well. I really liked this concept.

Steve’s eyes snapped open, ears already registering the faint whimpering noises that Natasha was making from where she was curled up and trembling into his side. She had her hand on his chest, fisted into the heather grey fabric of his t-shirt, and her face buried in his lower armpit. With the moon shining in through the window, he could see that her forehead was slightly glossy with sweat. He knew that she had nightmares, and this wasn’t his first time seeing her in the midst of one. The first time she had a bad dream in his presence was only a week after they’d started dating, and although she’d warned him before of what to do when she was having one (move far away from her so that she didn’t accidentally kill him in her sleep), he found himself unable to leave her side. He knew what it was like to have night terrors, and he knew that whenever he woke up from them he hated not having somebody by his side to keep him company. So, that first night, he’d went against her orders and soothed a hand down her arm to calm her down, while also murmuring her name and other assurances in her ear. When she woke, she _did_ try to strangle him; flipped him on his back and trapped him like a vice with her thighs, but he was stronger than her and managed to pry her dangerously small hands off of his neck before helping her come to her senses. She quietly thanked him for helping her once she recovered, though only after scolding him for not following the directions that she’d given. But that didn’t stop him from doing exactly the same the next time she had a bad dream, and the numerous ones after that.

This time was no different. Without a second thought, Steve shifted so that he was on his side and hovering over Natasha, who still had an iron grip on his shirt. She was panting; low, shallow breaths that he could feel against his neck, and squirming on the sheets. Steve tried to not let himself be worried. This was nothing he hadn’t done or seen before, but for some reason this time seemed… _different_. More intense. He enclosed his hand over hers, loosening her hold on his shirt but not totally removing it. “Natasha.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t wake nor did she stop trembling. He tried again. “Nat, it’s okay. I’m here,” he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles before reaching forward and wiping the sweat off of her brow with the other. She jerked under his touch, eyelids flying open and searching the room dazedly. Her pupils were large and dilated and swimming in her head. Before she could sit up, Steve removed his hand from her forehead and smoothed it down her arm, stopping at her elbow and rubbing the inside of it with his thumb. “Hey, hey. I’m right here. You’re alright.”

It took her a moment to catch her breath and respond, but eventually her green eyes focused and she looked at him, a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Jesus, Steve,” she gasped, drawing her hand away from him and sinking into the mattress, running a slightly shaky hand down her face. He looked at her quizzically, leaning back to provide her with a little space.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You _woke_ me,” she replied, irritated.

He frowned. “Because you were having a _nightmare_ ,” he retorted, voice rising at the end.

“No, I definitely was not,” she chuckled airily and gave him a pointed shake of the head. She was still panting, albeit just a little.

“I don’t—”

Natasha gave him a pointed look. It took him a few moments, but after trailing his eyes up and down her flushed body a few times, realization dawned on him. He blushed in slight embarrassment.

“That was one of the best dreams I’ve ever had in my life, and you ruined it. So thanks,” she chided playfully.

Steve swallowed. “Who were…you know…about?” He made a vague gesture with his hands.

She tipped her head back in a hearty laugh, creamy neck exposed. He only let his eyes linger there for a few seconds before looking back up at her face. Once she sobered, she gave him a sly look and brushed his bottom lip with her index finger. “Why, my favorite soldier, of course.”

He smirked playfully. “Colonel Rhodes?”

“He’s an airman, but _no_ ,” she corrected, rolling her eyes. He gave her a faux dubious look, and she sighed exasperatingly. “You’re unbelievable. You ruin my _fantastic_ wet dream, and then you act like a di—”

Natasha moaned in surprise as Steve silenced her with his lips. She reacted quickly though, opening her mouth to allow his tongue inside. Sliding his hands down to her waist, Steve rolled so that he was settled between her thighs and groaned as he felt her heat pressed up against his groin. She smirked against his mouth before he bent his head down to trail kisses along her collarbone and over the tops of her breasts.

“You know, this is kind of how it went in my dream,” she said breathlessly, amusement strong in her voice. “Though I don’t exactly know how it finished.”

Steve smiled against her skin and reveled in the way her breath hitched as he dragged his bottom lip over her nipple, which was still covered by her tank top. “I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Oh, really? And how’s that?”

He stopped his efforts, making her let out a low groan of protest, before looking her square in the eye. The heat in his blue orbs sent a shiver down her spine. On most occasions, Steve could be resorted to a blushing mess. But when it was just the two of them in bed, the man was as confident as he was on the battlefield. And he _loved_ to talk dirty, just as much as he enjoyed hearing it.

His voice was low and husky as he answered, “With me making you come so hard and so much that, when the sun rises, your legs will _still_ be shaking.”

All the heat in Natasha’s body went straight to her core, and she bit her lip in freshly renewed desire. “You’re mighty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Rogers?” she murmured breathlessly.

 _Oh_ , he definitely was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might expand on this scene in a separate fic, but I'm not sure yet. These are supposed to be short, interconnecting one-shots, but I'm a sucker for stevenat smut. So i'll probably just cave and write the full scene later.


	5. Things You Said When You Were Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might be dying, and although Natasha's never been afraid of death before, it's different now that she has him.

Natasha had never been scared of death. Not when she was an orphan trying to survive on the streets of Stalingrad, not when she was a teenager training with the Red Room. Not when the Winter Soldier shot her in Odessa, and definitely not when Pierce threatened to blow a hole in her sternum. Hell, she hadn’t even been afraid to die when Clint overpowered her and took her back to SHIELD or when Banner attacked her on the helicarrier. She knew that dying was an inevitable factor of her job. She _embraced_ it.

Until now.

She and Steve were huddled together for warmth, semi-protected by debris created from the quinjet crash they’d pulled themselves out of not even twenty minutes ago. They had been on their way home from a completed mission in Ukraine when their pilot went into cardiac arrest and veered the quinjet into what Natasha presumed to be somewhere in Kazakhstan, instantly crushing the cockpit and those in it between a rock and a freezing, icy lake. Although Natasha felt remorse at the loss of her colleagues, she was frankly thankful that her and Steve had emerged from the wreck mostly unscathed, save for a few scrapes. However, now they were stranded in the middle of nowhere, completely soaked to the bone and with nothing but snow circling them for miles.

Not only that, but Natasha was also starting to display signs of hypothermia. She’d been trembling severely ever since she and Steve dragged themselves out of the bitter lake, and although they both immediately shed their uniforms to get rid of the excess moisture, she still felt as if she was encased in ice. Even worse, she felt the sudden urge to just close her eyes. She was drowsy, incredibly so, and if it weren’t for Steve tightly squeezing her elbow every time her eyelids fluttered closed, she probably would have drifted off already. In fact, if it wasn’t for Steve at _all_ she’d probably be dead by now, but she didn’t want to think about that right then...

Because, although Natasha hadn’t been afraid of death before, it was different now that she had Steve. It was different now that she knew what it was like to share his bed, to be the target of his affection. It was different now that he’d cooked her all of his mother’s secret recipes, and it was different now that he was the first man she danced for, _genuinely_ danced for, since the KGB. Most of all, though, it was different now that she’d let him into her heart. If she were to die at that moment, just when she was starting to grow accustomed to calling a man hers and, in turn, be called _his_ , well…

She was _scared_. Scared of dying. Scared of losing Steve, of what they had together. And, now that she thought about it, she was scared of not ever being able to have the chance to tell him just how much she appreciated him and everything he’d given her since he first entered her life.

“S-Steve…” Natasha began, teeth clattering. At her voice he squeezed her elbow again, probably to signal to her that talking would only waste their energy. She didn’t care. He needed to know. “I-I...need t-to t-tell, you some…something.”

Because of the serum, he was faring better than her. Not by much, though. “Nat, you need to save your energy. At least until the rescue team comes.”

“We d-don’t even know i-if they got our…d-distress signal,” she argued, voice weak. “I…n-need to tell…”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, rubbing her arm and pulling her closer to his body. It was an act done in vain, and they both knew it. “What is it?” He added in a softer tone.

Steve’s breath was warm against her ear. “I love you,” it was ironic, how nothing hindered her ability to let those words out right then and there. But they were completely honest; completely true. She _did_ love him, and although she was pretty sure he knew it already, she had to say it. Just in case. “I love you. So m-much.”

“I love you, too,” he replied without any hesitation. He did sound a bit surprised, but she also could feel the warmth sprouting from his chest at the words. It helped her pre-hypothermic state, at least by a little. He hugged her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin. “We’re going to get through this, okay?”

Natasha managed a weak nod. “I love you,” she repeated in a quiet voice. They were the only words she could say that wasn’t being forced through chattering teeth.

“I know, Nat,” he whispered, still rubbing her arm. “I know you do. Now, I need you to save your energy, alright? They’re going to come for us. Tony’ll come, and Thor and Banner and _Clint_ , because he’s never going to let anything bad happen to you, okay? None of them will. And I definitely won’t, either.”

“S-Steve…” _I love you._

 _I know_. “Just rest, Nat. This will all be over soon enough. We’ll be home.”

She blacked out after that. It wasn’t until what felt like an eternity later that she woke to the sound of chopper blades slicing through thick, cold air. Her olive eyes flew open. She tried to sit up, but a hand pressed down on her now-covered torso. She recognized the strength, the warmth in the palm. _Steve_. She looked up and found him, smiling broadly, face lit up in relief and joy and assurance. He was clothed, too, and she had no doubt that she was wearing the same cloth jumpsuit that looked entirely too-ridiculous on his large frame. She didn’t care, though. They were safe. They weren’t stranded and they weren’t freezing and they weren’t dying and—

 _I love you_.


End file.
